


Heart and Soul

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: Ron should be careful with his promises.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** 76 - A Veela mating gone horribly wrong. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** Thanks to Sevfan and Emynn for beta reading, to Torino10154 for the handholding, and to the lovely Writcraft for throwing this fabulous fast and for making me feel so welcome.

Heart and Soul

* * *

“So, what you’re saying is, you don’t want me dating your sister.” Ron’s tone is flat, but his hands, hidden behind the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes counter, are clenched into fists. 

Fleur sighs. “Eet is not zat I do not like you, Ronald,” she says. “But you ’ave to understand. Gabrielle….she is different. She is…not like me, like us. And you…you are susceptible to Veela.”

Ron glares at her. “What are you talking about?” 

“Some people, zey are…I don’t know how you zay it. Zey are more likely to do what we zay? Follow our directions?”

Ron scowls. “I’m not going to let her order me around if that’s what you mean. I had enough of that with—” He exhales. “She’s your sister, I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman, okay?” 

“Eet is not you we are worried about.” 

Ron blinks. “Wait, don’t you trust her?” 

Fleur hesitates. “Oui, but she is also a Dark Veela. Zey are…not like us.” 

Ron shakes his head. She’s holding back on him, he can tell, and he’s tired of it. “I dunno what that means and I don’t care. What exactly are you afraid will happen?” he asks. “We’re just dating, not getting married.”

Hesitating, Fleur bites her lower lip. “I am worried zat she will ’urt you.” 

Ron frowns. “Like break my heart, you mean?” 

Some unreadable emotion flickers in Fleur’s eyes. “Somezing like zat, yes.” 

Ron shakes his head. “You know, when my mum and Ginny were criticising you, I stood up for you. And this how you repay me?” 

“I know your family did not like me at first.” Fleur tilts her chin up, defiant. “How do you zink zey will approve of ’er?”

“I can’t honestly say I care,” Ron mutters. “If it comes to that I’ll explain it to them. But I guess if it was up to you we wouldn’t even have the chance to see if things could work out.” 

Fleur leans across the counter, expression earnest. “Eet is not—I am trying to ’elp you!” 

“How did you find out we’ve been seeing each other anyway?” Ron demands. “Who told you? I haven’t told anyone.” 

“I…” Fleur sighs. “Your sister may ’ave mentioned—”

“Ginny.” Ron snorts. “She’s a busybody. Just because she broke up with Harry before he and Hermione—” He swallows, still unable to say the words. “Whatever,” he continues, turning away. “If your sister isn’t interested in me, she can tell me herself. But if she is, then it’s not your business what we do.”

“Why ’aven’t you told anyone else, zen?” 

Ron huffs. “It’s no one else’s business.” 

Fleur grabs his arm, holding Ron in place. He tries to shake her off, but she holds on without apparent effort. Veela strength, Ron supposes. “It is my business if somezing ’appens to you. You are Bill’s brozer, and I would not ’ave you ’urt. I know zat ’Ermione did a bad zing, but zat does not mean you should do somezing foolish—” 

“I don’t want to talk about her!” Ron looks down at where she’s clinging to him. “And you’re the only one doing something foolish right now,” he grits out. “Let me go.”

Fleur releases him, shaking her head. “Please be careful,” she says as he walks away. “Please. Do not promize ’er anyzing.”

Ron’s only reply is to slam the door to the stock room.

* * *

By the time he finishes work, goes home to change, and arrives at Gabrielle’s flat, Ron’s calmer, having decided to chalk up his conversation with Fleur to her being an overprotective sister. 

After she and Bill got married, he remembers Bill returning after their honeymoon with some pretty vicious scratches, and wearing an ‘I’ve been well-fucked’ smile that wouldn’t quit. If that’s what she thinks he can’t handle, what she’s trying to deny him, then fuck her. 

Smoothing down his hair, Ron blows into his cupped hand to check his breath. “You’ll be fine,” he mutters to himself as he approaches the door. “So what if you haven’t snogged anyone since Hermione?” 

As it does every time he speaks her name, Ron’s mouth twists, and he bites back a curse. Everyone’s told him not to be bitter, that what’s happened is just part of life, but as far as he’s concerned, that’s shite. What they did to him, someone who was supposed to be their _best friend_ , was shite.

Tamping down the rage that always engulfs him when he thinks about Hermione and Harry off somewhere together, Ron exhales and, once his hand isn’t shaking, knocks.

Gabrielle opens the door, smiling up at him. “Ronald! Hallo. You are most punctual!” she says, gesturing him inside. 

“Thanks.” Ron steps in, looks around, noting the bright colours and the dark stained, almost black wood floor. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a bottle of wine. “Here. I brought this for us to have with dinner.” 

Gabrielle accepts it, her fingers grazing his. “How generous. I’m sure it will go very well with what we’re having.” 

“What are we having?” Ron asks, following her into the kitchen. “Whatever it is, it smells delicious.” 

“Thank you.” Gabrielle deftly opens the wine, setting it aside. “I am making an old family favourite.” She winks at him. “Fleur has told me it works very well on Bill.” 

Ignoring the reference to Fleur, Ron smiles. “Great, I can’t wait.” He purses his lips, then decides to say something. “She, er, came to see me at the shop today.” 

“Fleur?” Gabrielle tilts her head. “Why? What did she want?” 

Ron clears his throat. “To talk to me about you. Actually, I’m not sure she likes me.” 

“Oh, why would you say that?” Gabrielle pours some wine for both of them, gesturing towards the table set for two. She sets his glass before him before moving back towards the stove. “I think she’s fond of you.” 

Ron sits, taking a sip of his wine. “She warned me about dating you.” 

Gabrielle blinks, leaning against the counter. “Is that so? And what exactly did she say?” Her tone is cool, although her expression is inquisitive, open. 

Ron tries to laugh. “Oh, I suppose it was silly, really. She just wanted to tell me that, um, Veela are different than regular witches. And that you’re a different sort of Veela?” He coughs. “Is that why your English is better than hers?” 

“Oui. Partly.” Gabrielle nods slowly. “And you should know she is correct, I am different in other ways, too. I am Dark Veela.” Her eyes flash. “Does this frighten you?” 

“Of course not!” Ron snorts. “I’m not about to allow anyone to scare me away from one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.” 

Gabrielle smiles. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“I think you’re beautiful.” 

“You are very sweet, Ronald.” Carrying her glass, Gabrielle walks over to him, runs her free hand over his hair. “So sweet. Did she say anything else?” 

Ron coughs. “She…she warned me to be careful.” 

“Of?”

Ron shrugs. “Of getting hurt, I suppose. Of having my heart…broken.” 

“I see.” Gabrielle’s lips turn up, but this time it’s not a smile. “And what was your reply?”

“I told her I wasn’t interested in regular witches right now, I’m interested in you, and I was sure you weren’t planning to break my heart.” Ron bites his lip. “You aren’t, are you?”

Gabrielle sips more wine. “Of course not. I wouldn’t _break_ anyone’s heart.” Setting down her glass, she sits down across from him and leans in. “Did you mean what you said?” 

Ron blinks. “About?” 

“About being done with regular witches. You are over ’Ermione?” 

Ron suppresses a shiver at the name. “Absolutely. I hope she and Harry are happy together,” he lies. 

“You no longer love her?”

Looking away, Ron shakes his head. 

Gabrielle tilts her head again, as if listening to something Ron can’t hear. “Good. Then I can win your heart, your soul?” 

Ron blinks. “I…yes, I think so.” 

Gabrielle smiles. “This is wonderful.” Her expression hardens. “But I shall have to talk to my sister. It’s not her business who I choose to…have.” 

“I can’t blame her for being over-protective,” Ron says. “I’m sure there are people who would want to take advantage of you. But I would never.” 

Gabrielle smiles again, and the tension’s gone. “You think it’s just that she is too protective of me? Perhaps. It is the family in which we were raised, I think. Our mother—” She shrugs. “It is not important. What is important is that we have a nice evening. Here, I have made some appetisers.” 

A platter of savoury pastries floats out from the kitchen to settle on the table in front of them. 

“Brilliant,” says Ron, reaching for one and popping it into his mouth. “Mm, delicious.” 

“You like? Good.” Gabrielle sits back in her chair. “It is good to cook for someone who appreciates it.” She clasps his hand, squeezing it. “Let us forget about my sister, yes? We shall have a lovely evening, and prove her predictions wrong.” 

“Brilliant,” says Ron. He exhales. “And yes, let’s prove them all wrong.”

* * *

Dinner is delicious, and afterwards, Gabrielle invites him to join her for drinks in the living room. Ron can’t think of a single reason not to. They’ve only been out a couple of times, they haven’t even kissed yet, but he’s drawn to her like no one since Hermione. And not even Hermione caused this buzzing in his head, this heat in his blood. 

When she kisses him, it’s like being immersed in warmth. She is intoxicating, and just her tongue exploring his mouth makes him hard. “You are so sweet,” she whispers as he draws her close and slides his hand up to cup her breast. 

“And you’re gorgeous,” he rasps, heart pounding. When she straddles him, he has to make his hands into fists so as not to grab at her. 

She tuts. “You do not have to hold back, Ronald,” she says, her fingers undoing his robes and pushing them off his shoulders. “Do not be gentle. I like rough, and I am Veela, I can take it.” 

It’s as if her words unleash something inside him, some heretofore unknown inner beast. Ron hauls her close, mouthing her neck before working his way down to her tits. He sucks her nipples through her clothes, smiling as she gasps and arches her back, pushing herself deeper into his mouth. 

Ripping at her knickers, Ron shoves a finger inside her, groaning as he feels how wet she is. “Fuck,” he whispers, his hand shaking. 

“Oui,” she murmurs, her hand curving around his neck to hold his head in place as he suckles her. “Yes!” 

The position makes it difficult to do more than finger her, but Ron, sure he’s going to get to fuck her soon, doesn’t mind. He slides a second, and then a third one in, moving them in and out as she rides them, panting harshly and whimpering encouraging words. 

When she shifts, grasping his wrist, Ron freezes. He absently notices her nails almost look like claws. “Are you—?”

Breathing heavily, Gabrielle rips off her blouse and knickers, baring herself to him. Then, reaching down, she undoes his flies, freeing his cock. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron groans as she shifts again, guiding his prick inside her. 

“Now,” she says thickly, “fuck me!” 

With a guttural moan, Ron does, arching up to drive into her even as she moves up and down on his cock, riding him. Her tits bounce as she moves, and Ron leans in again, alternately sucking and licking at them. 

A scent rises around them; it reminds him of warm cinnamon and sunshine. Vision hazy, he looks up and sees wings unfurling from her back. “Wha—?”

“Shh,” she hisses. She presses her tits closer and he takes the hint, burying his face between them and concentrating on fucking her. 

Within a few moments, she’s speeding up her movements as her muscles begin to ripple around his cock. When she starts to come, her cunt squeezes him and she cries out in pleasure, her head thrown back. 

Her muscles drag Ron’s orgasm from him. “Hermione!” he gasps as he spills inside her, his body shuddering with his release, and it’s not until his breathing slows that Ron realises what he’s said. 

Slowly, he lifts his head to look at Gabrielle. Maybe she hasn’t heard—? But when he meets her gaze he can tell she has. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know why I—”

Gabrielle shakes her head, her hair floating about her face. Her wings, which he can finally see clearly, look soft, their feathers black, with underling dapples of blue and purple. She moves her head from side to side, stretching her neck, her hands still clutching his shoulders. And then, right before his eyes, she…changes. Her features morph, become bird-like, her hair looks more like feathers, and her nails, already longer than he recalls, become true claws. 

“Gabrielle?” Ron says cautiously. 

“You said her name.” Her voice sounds different, more guttural, and her teeth are sharp, pointed. “You called out for _her_! You lied to me.” 

“I…” Ron clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to! I just…it slipped out. I promise it won’t again—”

“Stop.” There’s a moment of silence, as if the room’s waiting for something, and then Gabrielle opens her mouth and shrieks. It sounds like a combination of a bird’s cry and a dragon’s roar and Ron, his cock still inside her, claps his hand to his ears, but he can’t block it. He hears it in his ears and his mind. It seems to permeate his very pores. 

Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops. Ron exhales, moving his hands away from his ears. “Um…Gab—”

“Do not speak to me,” she hisses. “You lied.” 

“I didn’t!” Ron protests. 

Gabrielle’s eyes narrow. Even her pupils are different. “You said you no longer loved her. But at your ultimate moment of pleasure, you cried her name.” She tilts her head, and the movement is more bird-like than human. “Does she have your heart? Your soul?” 

“No—”

“Do not lie to me!” she shouts. 

“She doesn’t!” Ron insists. 

“Is it Harry, then? Does _he_ own you?” 

Ron’s hesitation is damming, and though he rushes to try to deny it, the words stick in his throat. “It’s not like that,” he finally says. “It’s just… it was always the three of us, and then they did this and now I’m alone—”

Gabrielle shifts back, decoupling them, and when she stands naked before him, she’s proud, unashamed. “Veela do not mate lightly.” 

Ron looks away from her, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” she says, leaning forward and placing a hand on his chest. “What matters is what you did.” 

Ron swallows. The look in her eyes is…feral. Trying to shift out from under her, he says, “Look, I said I’m sorry! If you just let me go I’ll never bother you again.”

“It is too late for that.” Gabrielle’s eyes glint. “You promised me your heart, your soul.” 

A frisson of cold fear slides through Ron. Shaking his head, he smiles weakly. “But that’s not going to happen now, clearly. So I’ll just go—”

“You’re going nowhere.” Holding this in place with no apparent effort, Gabrielle holds up her free hand. As he watches, she grows one claw longer than the rest. “Not before you give me what you owe me.” 

“I don’t—Argh!” Ron shouts as white-hot pain assaults him. Eyes wide, he stares down at his chest. He’s bleeding from the deep incision she’s sliced into it, blood welling up in alarming amounts. “Merlin,” he moans weakly, flailing. 

Gabrielle ignores him, and when her claws hook into the ripped flesh and she _pulls_ the pain makes the previous sensations feel like a pin prick. 

“Fuck,” Ron screams, trying to push her away, but its useless. Just as he couldn’t fee himself from Fleur earlier, he can’t even budge as Gabrielle causally opens his chest. The sound of flesh tearing is horrible, and even as he thinks it can’t get worse, and he can barely see through his tears, Ron hears a sharp crack.

The pain is excruciating, sending sharp jolts of agony through him, and for just a moment his vision clears enough for him to see Gabrielle holding up his still beating heart.

And, as his vision fades for the final time, Ron’s still screaming.

* * *

Ron wakes with a start, panting and clutching his chest. Sitting up, Ron looks down at his intact chest as his heartbeat slows. “All a dream,” he breathes. “Must have been.” 

He looks around. He’s naked in a bed, and there’s no blood anywhere. His clothes are neatly folded on a nearby chair, and, blinking, Ron slides out of the bed, reaching for them.

Once dressed, he hears voices and, creeping to the door, he listens for a moment before recognising Fleur. 

“…shouldn’t have done that.” 

“He shouldn’t have lied to me,” says Gabrielle. “I had to do it, don’t you see?” 

Frowning, Ron tries to open the door quietly, but of course they hear. 

“I know you are listening, Ronald, come out,” says Gabrielle, and Ron finds himself obeying, opening the door and walking into the living room. 

Gabrielle and Fleur are standing in the kitchen. Gabrielle smiles. “Come here.” 

Ron moves towards her and when he’s only a few inches away, she snaps, “Stop there and do not move.” 

Alarmed, Ron tries to move but finds he can’t. Beginning to panic, he stares at her and asks, “What’s wrong with me?” 

Inclining her head, Gabrielle hums. “You tried to renege on your promise, so I had to prevent that.” 

Fleur closes his eyes. “Gabrielle—” She says something in French. 

“Non.” Gabrielle shrugs. “He is mine. I have claimed him. I have his heart and his soul.” 

Ron swallows. “That wasn’t a dream, was it?” 

“It was not.” Gabrielle smiles. “But now that I have what you promised, everything is all right.” 

“Everything—” Ron presses a hand to his chest. “But my heart’s still here. I can feel it.” 

“You can feel the heart I placed in you,” Gabrielle says. “I have your heart, and you have…mine. One I created for you.” 

“But how?” Ron whispers. 

Gabrielle’s smile widens. “Magic, of course.” She moves towards him. “Now, there is just one more thing I need, and all will be well.” 

Ron tries to back away, but he can’t move. He looks at Fleur. “Help me,” he pleads. 

Fleur closes his eyes. “I tried, Ronald, but you would not listen. Eet ees too late for you now.” 

“What are you going to do?” Ron whispers when Gabrielle reaches him. 

Hey eyes grow big, and as she opens her mouth, he sees sharp teeth. “Do you remember what you promised me?” she murmurs. “Heart and _soul,_ Ronald.” 

Ron tries to cry out, but as soon as he opens his mouth, Gabrielle inhales, and he feels something rip inside him, something important, something essentially _him_. His vision again blurs as it did when she took his heart, and it hurts, only this time the pain is deeper, as if his entire body is being torn apart without a mark. 

Just when he thinks he can’t take any more, when he’s praying to die, the pain stops, his head clears. Ron, somehow on the floor, blinks up at her. “What—?”

“Stand up, Ronald.” Gabrielle is above him, and eyes glued to hers, he stands. “Now I think it’s time you go home, don’t you?” 

Ron shakes his head. He can think of nothing worse. “No. I want to stay with you. Please?” 

“I know you do.” Gabrielle licks her lips. “But I must rest. And you must tell your family about us.” 

“Yes,” Ron agrees. 

“Non.” Fleur shakes her head. “You can’t send a soulless man back to his family! He’ll destroy—”

“Not if they send him back in time,” says Gabrielle. “No harm will come to them as long as they don’t try to keep up apart. Now go, Ronald.” 

Fleur groans, but Ron only has eyes for his Gabrielle. “I’ll return as soon as I can, love.” 

Gabrielle pats his cheek. “I know you will.” Her eyes flash. “And you know what to do if anyone tries to keep us apart.” 

Ron’s hands form fists and cold resolve settles into the place his heart used to be. “No one will,” he promises. “I won’t let them.”

* * *

Fin

* * *


End file.
